I hate death, I hate a funeral. Theres so much sadness there. So as I leave the funeral home, the only place I know to go is a place I go quite regular, the dirtroad. I use it for everything. Gods there, yeah I know hes everywhere. But its my time with him and my comfort zone. I take my heels off and walk down that muddy dirt road in the rain and walk into the creek, where Im safe. When I heard of my uncle passing, so many memories surfaced. That front porch, the wood burning stove, the smell of cornbread coming from aunt Bettys kitchen. That hard look he had on his face, and when id get in his cabinet and put that ol frothy crap he put on his face. Id go put it on my face and pretend I was shavin. Until he caught me, I just knew he was gonna tan my hide. First time I ever seen him grin and hed say may may, that looks right nice on you. My eyes and mouth were as big as a bowling ball. but he smiled. Tonight, I couldnt bring myself to go in that room. As my aunt Betty and all my family came to me and ask me to come in. I said no. Tears welled up, i tried so hard to be tough. I couldnt look her in the eyes. I didnt go and see them like I should, so maybe it was because some of it was I was ashamed. A lot of it was a big part of my life was spent at that house and I knew how much aunt Betty loved Uncle Thomas. Theyve spent their whole life together, sittin on that front porch, him loading that wood burning stove, sittin at the dinner table with fresh cut tomatoes, corn bread and greens. Looking across to each other and knowing from the outsider lookin in that grin he gave her. The look of love. Now hes gone. Thats why I cant do this crap. And it took everything I had to walk through that door. And it took everything I had to hold back. Its hard to find that kind of love these days. I was raised on a dirtroad by family. Memories walk this dirtroad daily. So I stay on memory lane to never forget just to pass on.
Posted on: Tue, 14 Oct 2014 01:59:52 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015